


i took the stars from your eyes

by the_embarrasing_garden



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Angst, Mechanisation, The Moon War, gunpowder tim gets mechanised, i still dont know how to tag im so sorry, i will continue to hurt them, non-canonical jonny being emotional, the mechanisms b- mechanising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29750736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_embarrasing_garden/pseuds/the_embarrasing_garden
Summary: The mechanisation of Gunpowder Tim.warning:- gore descriptions- implied alcohol
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	i took the stars from your eyes

The pair sat on the floor of the observation deck, facing the large window. Tim is half slumped over Jonny, one hand still limply grasping a now empty bottle. His other arm is slung around Jonny’s shoulders, leaving him effectively draped over him. Jonny’s heart aches with the unfairness of it all- he shouldn’t have this. It's not right, not fair to the people Tim will have to learn to live with. After all, the mechanisation had been his idea. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonny awoke in the rubble of the room, his body just having knitted itself back together. The walls, or what was left of them, were caked in the gore of those who’d been in it before the explosion. He cracked a grin at this, as he eased himself to his feet. The mad bastard had done it- he had grown admittedly fond of Tim, with his manic laugh and blazing eyes. To see this destruction, the culmination of so much more, was satisfying. As his mind slowly came back to him, he recalled the distorted image of Tim, sprinting out of the room, the fuse lit. Jonny took that same path now, as best he could, picking his way through the destruction, down the hall where what were once doors now stood as gaping holes, revealing the dead insides of rows of lifepods. One still stood, at the end of the hall, the visor that rested over the window in the door still slightly ajar. As he approached, Jonny reached for his gun, cursing when he found the holster empty. It must have fallen out or been destroyed sometime in the scuffle. That was alright, not as though there was a shortage of arms back aboard the Aurora. 

He pushed the door, and it swung open smoothly. Like all the others, the lights, control panels and switches were all dead, a husk of a room. He was about to abandon it, mark it down as yet another planet off the neverending list, when he noticed the body. Curled up on the floor, leaning up against a plush chair that stood out against the desolation that surrounded it, was a figure, arms folded tightly over their head. Jonny approached slowly, curiosity bubbling up in his chest. He crouched as he neared them, reached a hand out and lightly shook their arm.  
“You alive?” he asked, hardly expecting an answer.  
The person beside him gave a low groan, shifting their arms and raising their head to face him.  
“Barely.” Tim rasped. Jonny almost screamed. 

The flesh around his eyes was torn away in jagged clumps, leaving the edges of the wound angry, red and blistering, barely hiding the muscle underneath. Blood coated every surface of his face, as well as caked into his hair. His eyes, still embedded in his skull, sitting like diamonds in gruesome casing, as his eye sockets had been stripped of their skin in the blast and no longer fit right, leaving gaping spaces around the organ they were meant to protect. Dead eyes, Jonny quickly realised. His heart, now ticking rapidly in his chest, felt as though it were about to explode. He couldn’t stand the sight, the image of someone he knew, cared for, shared memories with, torn to shreds. Couldn’t leave him here, in this state, this agony. Reaching for his gun, his first thought was to put the poor soul out of his misery. As his hand meets empty space, he remembers its absence, and curses aloud. Jonny weighs his options in his racing mind, frantically trying to process the information as it bores into his mind. He scoops Tim into his arms, holding him tightly against his chest, stands, and breaks into a sprint.  
This is very quickly cut short by an agonised scream from Tim, as he’s jostled around in Jonny’s grasp. Jonny scowls, pressing down the echoes of that pain he feels within himself.  
“I’m trying to save your life, you fucking bastard.” He informs Tim sharply, and is met with only a low, pained groan, and the sensation of fingernails digging into his shoulder. Jonny picks his way through the tunnels, doing his best not to shake his fragile cargo around as he does so. Tim’s groaning morphs into whimpers, spiking every time they meet a particularly hard to navigate path, and Jonny has to stumble blindly through it. Then, he goes silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the distraught ticking of Jonny’s heart.  
“Tim?” he asks the darkness, and is met with silence. “Tim?” again, panic beginning to curl into the word. Still nothing. “Tim?!” Desperation setting into the word, he shouts it into the vast space around him, shaking the man in his arms. He gives a sharp yelp of pain, and Jonny sighs in relief.  
“Don’t do that.” He instructs him sharply. “Okay? Don’t die.”  
There isn't a response. 

A dull, grey glow meets them from a point ahead. Light, which means they must be close to the surface, and Jonny breaks into a run again at the sight of it, pretending he hasn’t noticed the way Tim’s grasp on his shoulder has loosened, or the near silence that has surrounded him for quite some time now. He reaches the end of the tunnel, clambering his way to the surface, and for the first time in decades, stands in the light. He doesn’t stop to take in the moment, just makes his way as quickly as he can to where Aurora is docked. Stumbling towards the entrance, his eyes squeezed tightly against the light, he shouts up to the ship.  
“Aurora! Let me in!”  
There’s a hissing sound as the door beside him opens begrudgingly, and he staggers backwards in surprise. Regaining his ‘composure’, Jonny runs up the ramp and into the ship, still clutching Tim in his arms. Opening his eyes in the much gentler light of the interior, he hurries down a hallway, trying to remember the path as his brain is met with a barrage of questions. 

Who’s this?  
“Nunya.” Jonny answers Aurora aloud, fumbling as he takes a wrong turn and scrambles back.  
Where did you get him?  
“The Moon.”  
Is he alive?  
Jonny doesn’t answer that, just picks up the pace as he follows a path he’s avoided at every chance he got. He can feel the panic setting in already, a new wave through his already overworked heart, filling his mind with bitter memories and renewed fear, from time long since passed.  
She’s not here anymore. He reminds himself sharply as he reaches the door.  
“Aurora!” he shouts. “Door!”  
This is met with an irritated whirr, and the door stays firmly shut.  
You are not allowed in there, Jonny.  
He scowls, throwing himself against it, resulting in a scream of pain from Tim, who claws at wherever his arms can reach.  
“Aurora!” Jonny tries again. Still nothing.  
Why should I?  
“Because,” he gasps “if you don’t, he’s going to die.”  
Jonny’s voice cracks on the last word, as the weight of his actions dawns on him properly. Tim’s life is in his hands now, there’s no Doctor, and he knows nothing.  
The door to the lab hisses open. 

Jonny scrambles inside, feeling Tim go limp in his arms.  
“No, no no, come on, come on, come on-”  
He lays him down on the sleek metal operating desk, hands now coated in blood. What does he need..? Disinfectant? Bandages? He’s avoided this room as much as physically possible, including learning about the things that happened in it. He knows nothing, he can’t help. His gaze falls on the button on the wall beside the table, and he lunges at it.  
“Everyone, lab. Now!” he shouts into the PA system, hearing his voice echo through the halls outside the lab. Slumping to the ground against the wall, he can only wait for his crew as the precious seconds tick past. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four people have joined him in the lab, each shifting uncomfortably as they eye up their first mate.  
“And we’re here why?” Ashes cuts the silence. Jonny gestures to the man laid on the table by way of explanation, and is met only with raised eyebrows.  
“I-We need to help him.” He says, as forcefully as he can. “He’s going to die otherwise.”  
“Since when do you care about that?” Nastya looks him up and down, suspicious. He doesn’t answer, just rifles through some cabinets, searching for anything that might be of use. Brian steps up beside him, and raises his arms in offering. Jonny gives a begrudging sigh, and leans into them, trying to set aside the genuine comfort he gets from the hug. Very carefully, he rests his hand on the back of Brian’s neck, and flicks his thumb. Brian goes stiff, and Jonny steps away, not meeting the eyes of his crew.  
Somehow, that works- suppose he proved exactly how far he’ll go for this. They jump into motion, Ivy recounting to them everything they may need to treat Tim as equipment is gathered. A small door in the cabinet beside Jonny swings open, revealing a pair of mechanical spheres, with wire tails. He picks them up carefully, setting them in the tray beside the table. As she shifts past him, Nastya puts her hand on Jonny’s shoulder and leans down.  
“You take after her.” She tells him bitterly, and if he had not been so desperate for her mechanical knowledge, he’d have killed her then and there.  
As it stands, however, he draws in a sharp breath and does his best to shake the notion away. 

“So, what.. We need anaesthetic, right?” Ashes prompts.  
“In his current state, anaesthesia has a 87 percent chance of killing him, and a 92 percent chance of putting him into a coma.” Ivy remarks.  
“So, no anaesthetic..”  
“No anaesthetic.” She confirms.  
“Right.” 

Given it is being performed by an engineer, an arsonist, a robot, a bastard and a sentient library, the operation is going considerably well. The areas of Tim’s flesh that the explosion had burned away have been replaced with metal plating, placed in an intricate pattern that still allows for a full range of movement. Now comes the issue of his eyes, still wide open, but dull, staring up sightlessly.  
“Ivy,” Jonny says cautiously. “What’re our options?”  
She pauses, searching.  
“If we leave his eyes there, there is a 74 percent chance of infection, which is highly likely to be fatal. If we remove them, there is a 79 percent chance of fatality, due to the pain and potential damage we do to his optic nerve.”  
“So we’re fucked either way.” Nastya summarises.  
“Yes.” She agrees.  
Jonny pauses, before picking up the spheres from beside him, and holding them out to the rest of the crew. The group examines them carefully, a bitter silence gripping the room.  
“We don’t have another choice.”  
“We could just let him die.”  
“No.”  
Brian picks up a scalpel, and holds out his hand expectantly. Jonny meets his eyes, and drops them into his palm with a nod. He reaches his hand into the space between metal and flesh, and severs the optic nerve carefully. The man on the table screams, and a long beep fills the room. The mechanical eye is placed in the socket, and there’s a crackling hum as the wires connect with flesh. The same is done to the other side, meticulously, and the process is over. Silence once again falls upon the room, as Brian steps back from the table. A beep. Then another. Soon, a faltering but present heartbeat is displayed on the screen. It worked. The crew files out wordlessly, and leave Jonny to think about the consequences of his actions. 

He doesn’t follow them, just pulls some cleaning products from a drawer and begins to scrub the blood and gore off every surface it reaches. It’s done, he saved him, got his friend back. He feels.. Nothing, just a bitter emptiness sitting where relief, or joy, or anger, or regret should be. That’s not right, he got what he wanted didn't he? He did what he had to, and he got it. Avoiding looking at Tim, who is still lying flat on his back, drawing shallow breaths. Was this how the Doc felt? This unsatisfying, inexplicable void where anything else should have been. He couldn’t imagine living with it for centuries, it was eating away at him after 20 minutes.. Oh, god, was he going to feel this way forever? The notion makes his stomach churn, and he works harder at removing the gore from the spot he’s in. A noise from the side of the room gets his attention, and he turns to see Tim, trying to sit up and blinking his new eyes slowly. 

Jonny rushes over to his side, easing him back down slowly.  
“Hey, hey..” he keeps his voice soft. Tim turns to face him, eyes scanning him.  
“Tim,” Jonny rests his hand over Tim’s trying to soothe him as he watches waves of expression wash over his face. Confusion, pain, fear.  
“You remember me?” he prompts. Tim gives a slight nod, and Jonny affords him a small smile.  
“Good. How’re you feeling- uh, can you talk?” he fumbles over the words awkwardly. Tim coughs, clearing his throat.  
“ ‘M feeling weird..” he croaks out. “Like I can see you.. But not with my eyes.”  
Jonny winces, recalling that same feeling in his chest. The awareness of his mechanism so prevalent, so unnatural, like a dull ache. He manages a small noise of sympathy, but offers no explanation.  
“Well,” he draws a deep breath, sighing. “Welcome aboard the Aurora. Home of..” His brain does not supply him with something witty or dry to say, and he just shrugs defeatedly.  
“You, now, I guess.”  
Fortunately, Tim seems too out of it to properly question this, and he just nods, pulling an arm to rest over his eyes. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Some time has since passed, though no one is quite sure how long, but nonetheless, it’s about time Tim met the crew. Jonny sits him down in a chair, facing the main couch in commons. Time to put on a show. 

“So, Tim. Meet my crew.” He tries for his usual grin, but it feels unnatural and he drops it. Stalking around the room, he points at each crew member, lined up on the couch as he introduces them. 

“Drumbot Brian, our pilot, Ashes O’Reilly, quartermaster and resident arsonist, Ivy Alexandria, archivist, and Nastya Rasputina, our engineer. Oh, and The Toy Soldier, whom you already know.”  
Each of them give some gesture of acknowledgement, a wave or a nod.  
“Of course, you know me, Jonny D’Ville. As of this moment, I am your captain.” He bows.  
“Not for long.” Nastya mumbles. Jonny picks a spoon up off the table and throws it at her head. He misses by a long shot, and it clatters on the floor behind the couch. 

Tim is frozen, staring at them all in mute horror, his new eyes wide. 

“You right?” Ashes asks him, furrowing their brow slightly. This, though well intended, was a terrible idea. Tim leaps to his feet, stumbling backwards, fumbling where his gun should be, only to find the holster empty. Hearing their voice, agony shoots through his veins, his skull, fresh memories of muttered confusion and cursing above him as he felt his eyes ripped from his skull.  
“You did this to me..” he stares around the room, watching the expressions of those he’s now stuck with morph into sadness, sympathy, regret and anger respectively.  
“That we did.” Nastya says coldly. The one Jonny introduced as Drumbot Brian won’t look at him, sitting with his head bowed. Tim’s heart pounds in his ears, he has to get out of here, he can’t possibly stay here, they're going to hurt him, he has to escape, get out, go.  
He bolts.  
Jonny curses.  
“You seriously weren’t expecting that?” Ashes turns to look at him, unimpressed. He can’t answer, he should have expected it, it’s so glaringly obvious. But caught up in his own desperate need to keep Tim alive, Jonny had managed to forget what trauma is. Sort of.  
“D’you think he’s gonna try to leave?” Is what he says instead.  
“There is a 84 percent chance of it.” Ivy pipes up.  
“Fuck.”  
“There is an 18 percent chance that you can stop him.” She adds on.  
“He seemed fine with you talking. If you’re so desperate, you are the one who can actually talk to him.” Nastya’s tone is cold, but she’s right.  
Brian says nothing, his gaze still downcast, fidgeting with the latches on his fingertips. Jonny will have to face those consequences of his selfishness later. For now, he scans the faces of the crew again, before taking off after Tim. 

He finds him, desperately trying to get the technology in one of the escape pods to comply with him. They’re very temperamental, especially if you don’t speak Cyberian. Not to mention you have to be on Aurora’s good side if you even stand a chance. Jonny figures he’s got some time.  
He steps up beside Tim, tapping him lightly on the shoulder, doing his best not to incite any more panic. He startles anyway, flinching away from Jonny.  
“Tim-” he starts, but doesn’t get any further.  
“Get away from me.” Tim snarls at him. His eyes show no emotion at all, just scan him objectively.  
“This,” he gestures around to the lifepod. “Isn’t gonna work. Trust me. If we stay in here, the likelihood of us being stuck together for literal eternity is pretty high.”  
A flickering of lights tells him Aurora is laughing.  
He gestures outwardly, and Tim reluctantly steps out.  
“I can’t stay here.” he says, his voice small now. “I’ll- They’ll hurt me again.”  
Jonny just sighs deeply, shaking his head.  
“I’ll make sure they don’t. It was necessary.. to keep you from dying.”  
He takes a few steps down the hall, gesturing for Tim to follow him.  
“There’s some stuff I gotta explain to you, so.. Let's grab a drink.”

The pair make their way to the observation deck in relative silence. Jonny keeps a stash in most parts of the ship, and retrieves a bottle for them to share. Sitting down against a wall, he pats the ground beside him. Tim sits beside him, and Jonny passes him the bottle. For a moment, they just stare into the infinite darkness stretching out before them, sprinkled with stars.  
“I hate them.” Tim’s voice catches on the words. “I hate them all, and I hate it here. I want to leave.” He takes a swig from the bottle, choking on his words. Jonny, tentatively and rather awkwardly, places an arm around him. Tim draws heaving breaths, his body racked with dry sobs. Raising a trembling hand to his face, he rubs at his eyes. It comes away dry.  
“I can’t cry..” he murmurs. A pause. He folds into incredulous, hysterical, agonised laughter, shaking them both with the effort of it. “I can’t cry.” he repeats, before downing as much of the bottle he can in one go, and burying his head in Jonny’s shoulder, shaking with grief and fear and all things awful, but no way to release it.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now, Jonny sits with Tim draped over him, asleep. He’d explained, or tried to explain, Tim’s new immortality, tried to spit out the whole story before it threatened to consume him. He wasn’t sure how much of it had been coherent, or gotten through. So now, he sits with trust he doesn’t deserve, and he has no idea of how to make things right.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading! sorry for the angst crimes :0. all things are appreciated! have a wonderful day and take care ^_^  
> (title is from cosmic love -florence and the machine)


End file.
